Kabir was waiting for her in her suite.
He sat on the edge of her bed, still dressed in his office clothes, his face drawn with worry. When she walked in, he stood up. His eyes searched her face.
"What happened?"
She closed the door. She walked to him. She took his hands in hers.
"He knows. Karan knows I am The Architect."
Kabir's face went pale. "How?"
"He has been tracking me for three years. He put the pieces together. My age. My location. My connection to the Raichand family." She squeezed his hands. "He wants to recruit me. He wants me at his side when he takes over the Council."
"And if you refuse?"
"Then he will eliminate me."
Kabir pulled his hands free. He paced the room. His hands ran through his hair.
"We need to leave. We need to go somewhere safe. Somewhere he cannot find us."
"Running will not solve anything. He will find us. He has resources. Connections. He controls the intelligence network of the entire Council."
"Then what do we do?"
Aarohi walked to him. She placed her hands on his chest. She felt his heart pounding beneath her palms.
"We fight," she said. "We take the fight to him. We expose the Khuranas. We destroy the Council. We burn it all down."
Kabir looked down at her. His eyes were bright with fear and love and something that looked like surrender.
"I cannot lose you," he said. "I have lost everyone I have ever loved. My mother. My father, to his own greed. I cannot lose you too."
"You will not lose me." She reached up and touched his face. "I am not going anywhere."
He covered her hand with his. He turned his face and pressed a kiss to her palm.
"I love you," he said. "I have tried not to. I have tried to keep my distance. But I cannot. I love you, Aarohi Mehra. The Architect. The medical student. The woman who drives me insane with her secrets and her walls and her stubborn refusal to let me in." His voice cracked. "I love all of it. All of you."
Tears filled her eyes. She had not cried in years. She had forgotten what it felt like.
"I love you too," she whispered. "I have loved you since the terrace. Maybe before. Maybe since the first moment I walked into your study and you looked at me like I was a puzzle you wanted to solve."
He kissed her.
It was not like the kiss on the terrace. That kiss had been tentative. Questioning. A door opening.
This kiss was a declaration. His hands fisted in her hair. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He backed her toward the bed, and she let him, and for one perfect moment, there were no masks, no secrets, no Council, no Karan Khurana.
There was only them.
He pulled back. His forehead pressed to hers. His breathing was ragged.
"Stay with me tonight," he said. "Not as my contract wife. Not as The Architect. Just as you."
She looked into his eyes. The man who had hunted her. The man who had married her. The man who loved her.
"Always," she said.
He carried her to the bed, and she let him, and the night wrapped around them like a blessing.